Dave asked us to come up with a memory or two from the ages 9 through 12, and, of course, to include a photo. 500 words or less. Here's my response!
My best memories from the
ages 9 through 12 can be summed up in two words: Lake Nemahbin. Every summer,
my family and I would pack up our bags with bathing suits and sunscreen, and move
into our lake house on Lower Nemahbin in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin. I lived for
those summers. Underneath the perfect warmth of the Wisconsin sun, surrounded
by flowers, dragonflies, and open air, I would escape reality.
On
top of the garage was a deck with a bridge that attached to a hill steeped in
flowers of all sorts: tiger lilies (my favorite), gardenias, tulips, roses,
hydrangeas, hastas, and geraniums, just to name a few. Underneath that bridge,
I would camp out for hours, occupied only by my imagination. There, I built
houses for fairies, not really convinced by their existence, but intrigued by
the magic nonetheless.
I
had two friends out at Lake Nemahbin from which I was nearly inseparable:
Brighid, an adventurous and quirky girl always wanting to explore, and Quinn,
Brighid’s little brother with a knack for mischief. With those two, I
orchestrated a “shark circus,” an egg hunt (in our hill garden), a few spy
missions, and a million multi-mile bike rides. Back then, bikes were our ticket
to freedom.
One
of the best parts of summers on Lower Nemahbin was the swing my dad built for
Bridghid, Quinn, and I on our giant oak tree. It swung out over the hill
garden, and if you got it to go high enough, you could see the lake on the
other side. Secretly, without adult supervision, the one-seat swing became able
to seat two.
S’mores
were made, bonfires were had, and perfect Midwest summers were created.
Sadly,
my family no longer owns that home, and the new owners tore down our old hill
garden to build a guesthouse.
I guess only memories have a
shot at lasting forever.
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